Clue: Murder At Body Mansion
by Professor Rose Thorn
Summary: Is it Helga Scarlet with the Revolver in the Library? Or maybe it’s Arnold Green in the Kitchen with the Knife. Or maybe it’s one of the other suspicious friends of the deceased Mr. Body. Either way, it’s a dangerous game that’s being played…
1. Mr Body’s Disappearance

Disclaimer: I do not own a guy call Ronald, I do not own a cartoon called 'Hey Arnold!', I do not own a cow that goes 'moo!', I do not own a board game called 'Clue'. I am the writer behind this goofy excuse for a cast, and this disclaimer you see will be the last.

Chapter 1 - Mr. Body's Disappearance

The long and sleek black limousine pulls up in front of a large mansion. The woman inside grimaces as the rain seems to beat down harder, thunder booming close by. She scowls and straightens her dress before her driver opens the door. She gets out and takes the umbrella that he held about her from him.

"Thank you Jenkins. I will call you when I need to be picked up."

"Yes Ms. Peacock."

She climbs the stairs to the doorway as the limousine drives off. Shaking the umbrella dry, she mutters to herself, "There better be a good reason for bring me out in this rain."

As soon as she rings the doorbell a butler opens the door.

"Good evening Ms. Peacock. Master Body has been expecting you." He takes her coat and folds it over his left arm neatly. "Please follow me." Silently he leads her through the hall into one of the many rooms.

She and the butler stop in the doorway. "Ms. Rhonda Peacock has arrived." He announces, then turns and leaves her standing there. She looks around the room, half curious. It appears to be the Study.

"So you are Rhonda Peacock." She turns to the voice, which belongs to a short, oriental woman with chin length black hair in a royal purple dress. Her kind smile instantly makes Rhonda smile also. "Mr. Body has told me so much about you."

"The same as with you Professor Plum. And congratulations. When is the big day?"

Her smile seems to widen and her cheeks become pink, her right hand instantly fingering the ring on her wedding finger, "Well, Arthur and I haven't really thought of a date. But we both think spring would make beautiful wedding pictures. So, we've decided sometime in April would be perfect."

"I wondered when he was going to decide to settle down."

Rhonda looks over at a tall, blonde woman wearing a long ruby red dress that accents her figure nicely. She sits in a large leather chair close to the fireplace; a filtered cigarette in her right hand.

"Yes, he did seem to wait a while, didn't he?" Rhonda replies.

"Indeed, he did." She nonchalantly taps out the cigarette in the ashtray. "Forgive me for not introducing myself properly. I am Helga Scarlet."

"Rhonda Peacock." She replies.

Helga nods. "So how do you know Mr. Body?"

"Through our parents. As you know, his family is very well to do, as well as my family." She states simply, "And how did you come to know Mr. Body?"

"We both went to Harvard the same year. He and I became instant friends." Helga turns to the second leather chair, "And what about you Colonel Mustard? How did you meet Mr. Body?"

The dark skinned man in a yellow business suit smiles kindly, as if remember the day, "We both were in the same unit together in the military. Assigned to be each other's partners." He chuckles to himself, "I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for Arthur."

The door opens and the butler and a blonde man appear in the doorway. "Mr. Arnold Green has arrived." The butler announces, "Master Body will be in momentarily." And as swiftly as he came in, he leaves.

Arnold Green silently approaches the group, giving them a better look at him. He wears a green, three-piece business suit with a small green hat among his gelled blonde hair. He head is an odd shape, like a football. His eyes instantly became drawn to the radiant beauty in an attractive red dress.

"So you are Arnold Green. Arnold's business partner, if I'm not mistaken." Helga states dully.

"Yes, that's correct." He smiles slyly at her, as if she is prey in a hunt, "And you are Helga Scarlet. Mr. Body's college friend." His smile dazzles and his eyes close into a seductive half-lidded look, "I've heard much about you, but he didn't tell me what beautiful thing you are."

She turns her attention from him to the fire, "Strange. He failed to tell me anything about you. But I suppose I didn't miss much." she says indifferently.

"Excuse me Ms. Scarlet, but this seems hardly appropriate for individuals of your statuses." interrupts Phoebe, frowning, "Would you both please apologize?"

Arnold smirks, "Yes Ms. Scarlet. Let's kiss and make up."

She throws him a dark and dangerous look, "Go to hell."

He was about to answer when the door opens, instantly drawing everyone's attention. "Master Arthur Body has arrived," announces the butler. He closes the door silently behind them with ease.

A tall man in a black business suit walks calmly towards them. His chocolate brown hair is styled straight back, not a single hair out of place, his deep brown eyes reflecting laughter, and a cane in one hand, though it is unnecessary. "Welcome my friends. I am so happy to see you all here."

"What is this about darling?" asks Phoebe.

"Yes Arthur. Why did you call us here on such a dreadful day?" questions Rhonda.

He turns to the butler, "Mr. White, please pass the endowments to each of my friends, including your own." Slowly, he walks to one of the leather chairs and sits, clasping his hands on top of his cane, leaning back in thought, "This is difficult and complicated to explain, my friends, of what has happened." He closes his eyes, breathing in deeply, "I will try to put it as simply as possible, starting at the beginning. So I must ask you to refrain your questions until after I'm finished."

The don't breathe a word, waiting for him to start.

He opens his eyes slowly, watching the flames of the fire lick the scorching wood in the fireplace, "I have made several mistakes in my past. All I have regretted deeply, and have tried to make up over the years. But sometimes, no matter how hard you try to fix your mistakes, you just can't." He lets out a deep sigh, "My friends, I have made some sort of mistake with all of you. Each as terrible as the next. I am just sorry that I did it in the first place, hurting the people I care about in my life. The people I care the most for in the world.

"And it seems that my past has caught up with me, to say the least. I have received photographs of me at random times of the day, I answer the phone and no one is there, and I also receive threatening letters, all graphically gruesome. Someone wants to kill me, and I have yet to find out who."

Gerald was about to open his mouth when Mr. Body holds up a hand, "And no Colonel Mustard, I have not gone to the authorities. I don't want to involve them with my personal affairs. Nor do I want to start a scandal."

He lifts one hand and motions it in the air, "Please, my friends, open your gifts."

Wordlessly, they each open their own package.

"A Wrench?" inquires Gerald.

"Yes. And a Candlestick for Ms. Peacock, a Lead Pipe for Mr. White, a Rope for my fianceé, Professor Plum, a Knife for Mr. Green and a Revolver for Ms. Scarlet."

"Arthur, what is the meaning of this?" asks Helga.

"Each of these, in the hands of a person, is a potential weapon. Each are fully able to kill a human being. And I have a reason for giving them to you." he pauses briefly, "I have a past with each of you, a mistake with each of you that I wish I could erase. And I suspect that one of you is the one that wants to kill me. That is the reason I brought you all here tonight."

"Arthur! Really! One of us?! That's so absurd!" exclaims Rhonda. Placing the golden Candlestick back into the box, she shoves it back at the butler in distaste.

"Nevertheless. I have taken precautions. I have drawn it in my will that if I am killed tonight, whoever figures out who killed me, in which room and with which weapon, will receive everything I own and my half of Body & Green Company. Insuring my fortune to the rightful heir."

The lights briefly flicker off and on for a moment.

"What in the world?" asks Arnold, mostly to himself, looking up at the substantial chandelier lights.

"Hmm, it must be the storm," comments Arthur. A loud boom of thunder then shakes the ground and rattles chandelier noisily up above. The lights waver off and blink into blackness.

Phoebe lets out a scream of fright, instantly going to Mr. Body's side and grabbing his hand for comfort as he stands to his feet, looking up at the lights. The others murmur their concern to each other. "Now don't be worried everyone. The generator will start up any minute now." comforts Mr. Body, though only Phoebe hears him say so since another clap of thunder crashes.

She let's go of his hand, terrified, and in the confusion, ends up on the floor. The others try to reach the door in a panic, fearing the worst, when the lights flicker on again.

Rhonda looks up at the lights and lets out a sigh of relief, "Thank goodness the lights are back on."

"Arthur? Arthur?!" Everyone's attention snaps over to Phoebe. "Where is he?! He was right here!"


	2. A Hunting We Will Go

Chapter 2 - A Hunting We Will Go

Phoebe slumps into one of the chairs in despair as she puts her head in her hands, "He was right here!" she barely whispers.

"That's it! I'm getting out of here! Before I'm next!" Rhonda starts making her way to the door when a hand grabs her arm. Rhonda looks up from her arm to the person holding it. "You will release my arm right now if you know what is good for you, Mr. Green."

He stares back at her, but doesn't release his grip, "Not so fast. No one is leaving."

"And why not?! Arthur's killer has already struck! And any one of us will be next!"

Arnold shakes his head, "You're not thinking rationally. Arthur is just missing, we don't know for a fact he's dead."

"Humph. He's been receiving life-threatening calls all week. There are six people here and we all have weapons, thanks to Arthur, and all of us have supposed motives. What makes you think that he _isn't_ dead?" asks Helga, still in her chair, looking at the fire solemnly.

"Because all of that doesn't mean he's _actually_ dead! It's all circumstantial." He lets go of Rhonda's arm, just as she yanks it away from him, "We have to stay and find Arthur. And even if he _is_ dead, we need to carry out his will and find out which one of us did it, with which weapon, and in which room. Like Arthur said."

"So what do we need to do first, Mr. Detective?" Helga sneers.

Arnold almost shoots her a look but glances down at the floor instead. His eyebrows pucker as he bends to one knee.

"Mr. Green? What on earth are you doing?" asks Rhonda.

He gently picks up the wooden can on the floor. "Well, we can now rule out that he stepped out of the room briefly. Arthur wouldn't go anywhere without his cane. Even though he doesn't need it, it's habit."

"So he _is_ missing?" asks Phoebe, high-pitched.

"I'm afraid so."

"As I asked earlier, what should we do first?" repeats Helga.

"First of all, we need to lock up all these damnation weapons!" exclaims Mr. White, "We need to lock them all up so they can't be used against us!" He grabs the Rope from Phoebe, Arnold hands him the Knife and Gerald looks up at the butler solemnly as he, too, hands him his weapon, the Wrench. "Ms. Scarlet, if you please." He holds out his open palm to her.

Helga sighs and places her hand to her temple, "I don't have the Revolver."

Rhonda's jaw drops, very unladylike, "What?! What do you mean 'you don't have the Revolver'?!"

Helga shoots her a tired glare, "Just as I said, _Princess._ I. Don't. Have. It." She waves a hand towards the floor, "When the lights went out I doped the gun in panic. I don't know where it could have gone." She looks up at each of the others, "But it means that any one of us could get it at any time. One of us could still get a weapon."

Phoebe looks like she could faint at any second, "W-what do we do now?"

"Lock up the weapons, as I said. Hopefully we'll find the Revolver before it can be used." With arms full, he stuffs all the weapons in the large, Cedar cupboard, locking it with a iron key. "And just for everyone else's reassurance…" He throws the key into the fire. "There. Now no one can get to any of the weapons."

"Except the Revolver." Helga states obviously.

Arnold lets out a sigh, "Well, now for the next step. Let's split up into pairs and search the Mansion for Arthur Body."

"Whoa whoa whoa. Time out here. What do you mean, 'split up'? If one of us has already killed, then one of us will end up getting paired with the killer!" exclaims the butler.

"And if he or she does kill again, we'll know exactly who kill Arthur." Arnold replies practically. "And as I said earlier, we don't know if Arthur's dead."

"Mr. Green is right." agrees Gerald, "We should split up to cover more ground and find Mr. Body. It's the only way." He stands to his feet, "And we can't just wait for him to show up when there's the possibility that he's… well…" he looks over at Phoebe sympathetically. Her head was still in her hands, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs, "Mr. White, you search with Professor Plum. Ms. Peacock will search with me. And Mr. Green and Ms. Scarlet will be the last search party."

"Absolutely not." snarls Helga, "I refuse to be alone with that ingrate at any time! No matter _what_ the reason may be!"

"Why Ms. Scarlet, I'm flattered." smirks Arnold.

She shoots him a glare that could kill, "Shut up you!"

"Ms. Scarlet! Please!" Helga looks over at the petite Japanese woman in the chair, surprised, "This is for Arthur! Can't you just do this one thing for him?!" she sobs dry tears.

With a sigh she looks down at the floor, before slowly nodding. "Fine. As long as you keep your distance, we shouldn't have a problem Mr. Green."

A smile widens on his face, "Call me Arnold."

Helga forces a smile on her own face, "Alright, _Arnold._"

Gerald helps Phoebe to her feet, "Mr. White, how many rooms are in this mansion?"

"Nine rooms," he replies, "There is the Hall, the Study, the Library, the Billiard Room, the Conservatory, the Ballroom, the Kitchen, the Dining Room, and the Lounge."

"Each party will take three rooms, then. Mr. White and Professor Plum? You will take the Hall, the Study, and the Library. Ms. Scarlet and Mr. Green will take the Billiard Room, the Conservatory, and the Ballroom. Ms. Peacock and I will take the Kitchen, the Dining Room, and the Lounge."

Helga lets out an exaggerated sigh, "Fine then. Let's get this over with." She starts out of the room, tossing a quick look at Arnold. "Coming… _Arnold?_"

A sly smile spreads across his face, "Right behind you, _Helga._"

She frowns as she looks away, but doesn't say anything as they leave the room.

Rhonda lets out a large sigh, shaking her head, "Not exactly the smartest move in the world, pairing them up, Colonel Mustard."

Gerald shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly and holds out his arm, "Shall we, Ms. Peacock?"

Looping her arm through his, they also exit the room, to start their own search.

Looking around the room, Phoebe puts her hands on her hips, "Well, Mr. White. Shall we start in this room?"

A small smile spreads on his lips, "Sure, why not? And Professor Plum?"

"Yes Mr. White?"

"You can call me Curly if you want."


	3. The Billiard Room, The Hall, And The Lou...

I am such a genius! I've been brainstorming with myself and I've come up with some great stuff! A motive for everyone, who actually did it, why, and with what weapon, and a whole bunch of twists everywhere! I'll bet anyone a cookie that they can't guess who did it and why before I post the last chapter!

As Jimmy Kudo says in my favorite anime Case Closed, "Only one truth prevails!"

Just as a warning to all my readers, chapters 3 and 4 will mainly establish everyone's motives. So it's not going to be that action packed. Also I'm changing the rating on this fic from PG-13 to R, for references to drinking and some mild swearing.

But anyways, thank you everyone for reviewing! It warms my heart with every review I get. And to answer a question I know will come from someone soon, I don't know when I'll be able to finish Little Miss Hyde due to the fact that I am having a major writers block with that story, STILL. It really sucks, MAJORLY.

Well, here's my replies to my loyal reviewers!

Arein: You're supposed to guess! Putting the clues together and that sort of thing. Just make a random guess! That's the fun in it! Besides, I'm not telling!

RuffMaster: I'm doing fine. I figured that since I already had those two chapters already finished, I might as well post them. I love Curly! He's so random! Just like me! And I don't think Curly's a lunatic, he's just misunderstood, like the majority of the population of the world. I guess that because of Curly's personality that might make readers suspicious, I can see that. But just to warn you, don't rule anyone out. Any one of them could have done it. And as soon as the Thanksgiving cheer runs out, I'll read and review your story, that's a promise!

ahhelga: Thanks, I think it's going great too. And yes, it's nice to know our little group of Hey Arnold fans are still posting chapters and reviews. And please! I want you to point fingers! I want to know everyone's suspicions! That'll tell me as of whether or not I'm doing my job correctly.

classics85: I fully agree! I have the game "Clue", so I play every chance I get! Though, since it needs to involve three or more people, I haven't recently. Most of my family's busy with one thing or another…

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Chapter 3 - The Billiard Room, The Hall, And The Lounge

Slowly opening the door, the light from the hallway floods into the room.

"Well, isn't this inviting. This room has 'deathtrap' written all over it." Helga says sarcastically. She reaches over and casually flips the lights on. Looking around the room she crosses her arms. "It appears nothing has happened in here recently. It's too clean."

Arnold looks from the pool table to the poles put up on the wall. "I agree. If Arthur was in here a short while ago something would be different. Chalk on the table or something." He shakes his head. "There isn't anything here of interest."

Taking a deep breath, Helga crosses the room to the window, pulling back the pale curtains. "The rain seems to be getting a little better. At least there's no lightning." Closing her eyes solemnly, she barely shakes her head to herself, "I hope he's alright. I'm so worried about him."

A small smile spreads on Arnold's lips. "You really care about him, don't you?"

"More than I should."

Arnold raises an eyebrow in curiosity as he waits for her to continue.

She sighs heavily, "Do you know how hard it was for me when I heard that he and Professor Plum were going to be engaged? I forced myself to smile and act like it was wonderful news. Several weeks passed before I could get the courage to talk to him again."

He nods understandingly, "You love him."

Helga lets go of the curtain and turns to him, "Yes. I do. Ever since we were in college. And do you know what the worst part was? He knows. He knows how I feel about him. And he still chose her over me!"

"So not only do you have a motive to kill Arthur, you have one for Phoebe too."

Helga frowns, "What? Are you crazy? I would never kill the man I love! Nor would I kill the woman that makes him happy!" Helga turns her back to Arnold one more, "No matter how much I despise that woman, all I want is for Arthur to be happy."

"That's what you say anyway." Arnold whispers to himself. "That doesn't mean you don't have a motive though, Helga." he says louder.

She whirls back around to his face, just inches between them, with a fire blazing in her eyes, "You have no right to accuse me of anything! You also do not have the right to make comments like that, _Mister_ Green!"

Arnold only frowns at her anger, "If I'm not mistaken, Arthur said that we _all_ have a motive to kill him. I did not say that you _will_ kill him or that you _have_ killed him. I'm not accusing you of anything, _Helga._" She glares at him for using her first name, he raises an eyebrow again as a different thought occurs to him, "And just out of curiosity, what have I done to make you dislike me so much?"

Helga turns away, breaking their eye contact, "I don't hate you." she mutters softly.

He frowns again, "Yes you do. You hated me ever since we first met in the Study. Why would you automatically hate someone that you've never met?"

"Alright, fine, I'll tell you." Helga glowers at him in spite, "After we graduated college at Harvard he met you and started that damnation of a business of yours! After that I hardly saw him, and when I did, he was pouring over mountains of paperwork! Because of you, I lost him. I have no hope of anything remotely _close_ to a relationship after that with him because he was married to his work!"

Arnold's jaw drops in bewilderment, "So you blame me for a romantic relationship that was never started in the first place?"

"Yes I do! And now he's engaged! So I've never had the hint of a chance with him!"

He sighs as he struggles with his growing aggravation, "Have you ever considered the possibility that you and Arthur aren't meant to be? That you should get over your silly little schoolgirl crush and move on with your life?"

Helga's jaw drops in shock, "How dare yo-"

Arnold places a fingertip on her lips, instantly shutting her up. He looks down into her eyes as he removes his finger, "You've never once though of starting an intimate relationship with a man other than Arthur?"

Helga opens her mouth speechlessly, surprised, "I uh…" A mild blush brushes her cheeks, "What are you implying Mr. Green?"

His smile grows, "That maybe you need to move on from that fantasy, or get a life. Pick one." He stuffs his hands deeply into his pockets, turning out into the doorway, "And as I said earlier, call me Arnold."

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"So how do you know Arthur, Curly?" asked Phoebe as they enter the echoing Hall, "I know you've been here awhile, I just never thought to ask."

Curly shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, avoiding Phoebe's eyes, "I've known him for a great number of years. About three years ago he asked me if I wanted to work at his home. I agreed."

Phoebe opens the coat closet and inspects it offhandedly, "How did you meet him? Did you used to go to school together or something? Like Ms. Scarlet?"

He leans back against the large table in the Hall, "Uh… it's… um, a little more complicated than that, actually."

She looks up at him puzzlingly, closing the door of the closet, "Complicated? How so?"

"Um, well… he's kinda, well… Arthur's my…" Curly trails off, trying his hardest not to look into Phoebe's questioning eyes.

"He's your…"

Curly sighs, closing his eyes in defeat, "Arthur's my brother."

Phoebe's jaw nearly drops, "What?! Arthur's your _bother?!_"

Curly looks up and smiles wryly, "My stepbrother, actually."

Phoebe raises an eyebrow, "Stepbrother? Arthur has a stepbrother and he never told me?"

Curly let's out a weary sigh, "To make you feel better, you're the only one in his high-class society group that knows he has a stepbrother." his grip on the table tightens, turning his knuckles white, "He's ashamed that he has a _step_brother, instead of a real brother. He's ashamed to be associated with _me._"

Phoebe reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder for comfort, "I'm sure that wasn't-"

Curly slaps her hand off his shoulder, "Yes he is! Why else would he hire me as his damn _butler?!_ Why wouldn't he mention to anyone in his country club that he has a _stepbrother?!_ It's because he's ashamed to be related to me! After his business went through the roof with profits, he totally forgot that he was related to me! I hate him because of that!" He slams his fist on the table, rattling the vase of floors atop it, "I looked up to him when we were kids as if he was my _real_ big brother! But ever since he's become wealthy, he has nothing to do with me! And even lowers me still by hiring me to clean up after him! I hate this job! I hate _him!_"

Phoebe blinks in pure shock, "Curly…" she whispers.

He looks up at her, pure anger in his eyes, "I hope he's already dead…"

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Upon entering the Lounge, Ms. Peacock went directly to the bar in the corner of the room. "I need a drink…" Helping herself to a big crystal bottle, she pours some of the brown liquid into a large glass. And in one swig, it disappears down her throat. "Ah, I needed that."

As Gerald enters the room after her, he raises his eyebrow in curiosity, his hands in his pockets. "I'm assuming you can hold your liquid then."

"Yes, but even I need a stiff one every now and then." She places the glass on the bar, rim down, "It's kind of ironic. There's only reason why someone would want Arthur dead. And it's his money. That's the only logical reason to kill him. And the ironic part is that the only way to get to it is to figure out his _murder_ for Pete's sake." She rolls her eyes and places an elbow on the bar for support, "That's Arthur for you. He's been an odd one ever since I met him."

Gerald sits down next to her, "And how did you meet him, exactly?"

"At our country club, or course. He's one in our tight knit group within a group. He's the richest of us all." She turns the glass right side up and pours herself another drink, "And he _earned_ it all! Imagine that! He's "_new money"_ for crying out loud, and everyone else accepts him like he belongs!" Rhonda gulps the drink down all at once.

Gerald raises his eyebrow and smirks at his companion, "Sounds like you're jealous, Ms. Peacock. Enough to kill?"

"He's handsome, charming, and the richest man in the state. He has earned _everything_ and he's _still_ richer than me! Of course I'm jealous!" Rhonda stops a moment as she realizes what Gerald was getting at, "That's doesn't mean I would actually _kill_ him though! Why would I kill him just because he's too charming?"

Gerald narrows his eyes at her, "You said it yourself that he's even richer than yourself. If you somehow inherited his entire fortune and his half of the Body & Green Company, than would more than double your own fortune." He stands up and grabs the glass away from Rhonda, before she could pour herself another drink, "That's more than enough of a motive to kill Arthur Body in my book."


	4. The Ballroom, The Library, And The Dinin...

Okay, just as a safety precaution, I'll put in this disclaimer, since I refer to it once in this chapter. Read my lips! I. Do. Not. Own. CSI.

I also want to give a great big thanks to Yzibella! I've had chapter 4 for a while now and was a little hesitant in posting it. I didn't know if it was my final draft or not. But Yzibella inspired me to post it! And to keep working on the other chapters (I've been a tad busy). So many thanks!

And now! For the fun part! Replies to my beloved reviewers!

yzibella: See! Told ya! I told ya I was a genius! It's just people mistake my genius for something else, like insanity… although I'm not admitting to insanity! Just the genius part. Great guesses! I'm glad someone is throwing their suspicions at me. (Ow! Not so hard!) And as to whether or not you're close, I'm not telling! I can't ruin the entire story for you! That would be just mean!

Shi Rurouni of the Aphrodesiac: Aw! You're making me blush! I'm glad you think so!

ahhelga:Great! The fact that you're into it makes me all warm inside. I'm just glad everyone thinks this is a great idea. Whenever you think you have enough evidence, start making guesses, a'ight? A'ight.

Arein:That's it? Just because they're jealous? Sorry to break it to you but it's a a tad more complicated than that. Just keep guessing, a'ight?

And now, on with the story!

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Chapter 4 - The Ballroom, The Library, And The Dining Room

"It doesn't look like Arthur's here either." Arnold casually look around the room, "Nothing seems to be out of place or strikes me as odd. It looks like another dead end."

Helga nods, "It looks like it."

"Arthur should have shown up be now. I'm getting worried."

Helga raises an eyebrow, grinning slightly, "You're just now getting worried about him?"

His hardly laugh echoes in the large Ballroom, "Yes, well, I know Arthur can take care of himself. I have no doubt about that." Arnold's laugh soon fades, "I just wish we could finish with this silly hunt of ours. It's getting quite boring huh?" His smile dims into seriousness, "And besides, I have very important business I need to attend to. I was hoping that our visit with Mr. Body was going to be quick. It appears to be really the opposite."

Helga frowns in puzzlement, "What business?"

Arnold looks over to her, as if for the first time noticing she was there, then walks to a large chair on one side of the room, sitting on it. Helga sits next to him in another chair, still curious as to what he meant. "You're going to find out eventually, so I might as well tell you now. My important appointment is somewhat in ties with a possible motive for killing Arthur."

Helga raises an eyebrow in curiosity, "Go on."

Sighing, he stares down at the tiles in the Ballroom, avoiding Helga's gaze, "A few years ago Arthur found out that I was secretly embezzling money from our company to several different accounts in different banks, under false names."

Helga's jaw drops in shock.

"When he found out he immediately confronted me about the situation. I confessed that it was true and when he wanted to turn me into the authorities I begged him not to. I vowed to him that I could change. I told him that if he didn't go to the authorities I would amend my ways, that I hated what I had become. He, being Arthur naturally, believed me. He never went to the police and he didn't lose his partner."

"But you both are millionaires because of your company! Why would you need to embezzle _more_ money?"

Arnold sighs dejectedly, "When I was two, my parents went away on an airplane to a jungle in Africa, to cure a disease. The plane never got there, nor was it ever found." He looks over at Helga, "I have spent every last cent in my name to find them. I don't even have two cents to rub together. I'm poor."

Helga's eyes widen in realization, "That's the possible motive. Because you're poor, the likelihood that you could inherit Arthur's fortune _and_ the rest of the company would more than enough of a reason to kill him."

Arnold nods slowly, "And keep looking for my parents…"

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Flipping on the lights, the large Library illuminates the expansive collection of books along its walls.

"Well, it appears that Arthur's not here either."

Curly nods in agreement, "Yes, I suppose so. Though, I would think that if Arthur had to escape to any of the rooms in the household, it would be the Library. It's his favorite room."

Phoebe nods also, a small smile playing on her lips, "I remember how many hours we've spent in this room, just pouring over the adventures these books contain in their pages."

Curly looks away from the novels to Phoebe, tilting his head slightly, "What I don't understand is how Arthur could possibly think that you would have a motive to kill him, of all people. You both seem so happy together. Why would he think that you would want to kill him?"

Phoebe looks down at the floor, rubbing one arm nervously, "It may be because I confronted him yesterday. That's the only thing I can think of."

Curly's eyebrows pucker in bewilderment, "Confronted him about what?"

She lets out a long sigh before answering, "I think he's cheating on me, with Ms. Scarlet."

Curly's jaw almost drops from surprise, "_Cheating_ on you?! With Ms. _Scarlet?!_ You got to be joking!" Curly shakes his head, "Do you know how much he _loves you?!_ How much he _cares_ about you?! He talks about you nonstop! Why would he cheat on you?!"

Phoebe shakes her head, closing her eyes tightly as if to keep from crying. "I don't know why. All I know is that for the past few months he's been acting strange around me. Being distant. And the only woman I can think Arthur would have _relations_ with is Ms. Scarlet. _Helga._ She's known him the longest, is always calling for him, that sort of thing." She looks up into Curly's eyes, "I just don't understand why he would do this to me."

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Upon entering the Dining Room, Rhonda Peacock lets out an irritated sigh. "He's not here either. He isn't anywhere in this godforsaken house!" She crosses her arms and turns back to Gerald as he brushes past her into the room. "This is insane! Why are we sitting here, looking for a possible corpse, in a house, with a potential _murderer_ on the loose! We should be calling the police! Or if we find a body, the CSI."

Gerald rolls his eyes as he slowly circles the long table in the middle of the room, randomly pulling out a chair and checking every once and a while. "Believe me, we'll find Arthur. If we survived a war together, he can certainly handle some petty stalker."

Rhonda raises an eyebrow in mild curiosity. slowly circling the table as well. "A war? How interesting." She brushes her fingertips lightly along the top of a chair, in deep thought, "Does that have some sort of tie into your possible motive?"

Gerald almost stops in mid-step, looking up into Rhonda's eyes briefly before tearing his gaze away. "Yes, it does, I suppose…" he lets out a long sigh, "Arthur and I have a dark past behind us, though we've have tried to forget. We were in each other's squad along with a tough army brat named Rose Thorn. We were the best of friends, the three of us. Then, one night, we suddenly were under fire, without warning. We crawled on our knees and elbows through the dirt and the smoke as we tried to fire at the upcoming enemy." He shakes his head tiredly, "He didn't do it on purpose, it was an accident. He… he didn't know that Thorn was in front of us. Arthur thought he was one of the upcoming enemy. He… shot our comrade that day. She died because of Arthur's mistake." He pulls out one of the chairs and plops into it, placing his head on one hand, supporting it, "Our commanding officer never found her, and Arthur and I never told anyone what happened that dark day, until today that is."

Rhonda blinks numbingly at Gerald, gawking, "Arthur… _killed someone?!_"

Gerald nods his head, "And the worst part is, we never told anyone. All these years and no one knew what really happened." Unknowingly his fists ball up tightly, turning his knuckles white, "And to top it off, Arthur was promoted! That scoundrel killed one of our men, and he was _promoted!_" He slams his hand on the table, rattling the flower-filled vases, "He didn't _deserve_ that title!" Gerald looks up into Rhonda's horror-filled eyes, "He should have died that night with Thorn."


End file.
